


Fixation

by SoulFishie



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dark!Akechi, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kink Meme, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, i don't know how i did that either just roll with it, not between akira and akechi, soft yandere akechi, some sexual content but not graphic, some violence but not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulFishie/pseuds/SoulFishie
Summary: Akechi knew from the beginning that Akira would escape his own assassination. Their game was exhilarating and Akechi adored the chase.However, the worthless scum of the underworld can’t be trusted to play nice like Akechi has. If only Akira had someone protecting him, serving him, and would only ask so little in return...
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 213
Collections: Persona Kink Meme





	Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt: https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1598.html?thread=1355838
> 
> oh my god this is way too vanilla for the kink meme i’m sorry

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The second he feels the pull of the Metaverse on his skin, Akechi knows Akira’s plan is in motion.

The thought of such an elaborate plan being devised behind his back enchants him. Just how much time was devoted to not arousing his suspicion in Sae’s palace? How much acting was behind Akira’s desperate attempts to monopolize his time? Akechi smiles on his way to the interrogation room. It doesn’t matter in the long run. Akira was safely in the real world, and he was on his way to murder whatever remnant remained in that paltry room.

It’s a recently made decision, the one to betray Shido’s wishes so close to the finish line. But the second the boy he’d been dreaming of had been put in the line of fire by the man he hated most...

Well... it was a simple decision after that. He’d gone to Shido’s palace soon after making the decision to gather intel from his cognitive double, a blank pathetic excuse of an imitation, and had discovered Shido’s plan for Akechi, loyal murderer to Shido’s cause. The thought of Shido thinking he could make it to election night after murdering a bright star like Akira, and then resolving to kill Akechi himself afterward, had given him the urge to murder the man immediately.

But Akira wanted to take him down himself. And who was he to deny the boy something he craved? And if he could convince Akira to take his operation slightly further, a little more ruthless, a little more deadly, a little more... final, then Akechi could take supreme delight in it as well. He’s sure Akira won’t refuse once he sees how far he’s willing to go for the thief. He’s willing to go along with this farce of an operation, and he’ll protect the boy when he goes to invade that man’s palace.

His thoughts do stutter slightly when he peers at the beaten-up cognitive version of the boy he’d fast become obsessed with.

He’d assumed the cops would rough him up slightly in capture, but to hurt him severely enough that Sae can easily envision him with such blemishes?

His blood boils. He mercilessly shoots the cognitive guard and aims the gun at a still non-Akira. He takes his time categorizing every bruise, every track mark, every speck of blood he can find on the double. If only he hadn’t decided to leave Shido to the thieves for now. He could easily place the blame of these injuries at his feet and take the pain back bruise by bruise. As it is, he’ll have to take the pain back from the officers who’ve conducted this ‘interrogation’. He wonders if he should take a souvenir from them to present to Akira, to prove the monsters couldn’t hurt him anymore if he had a bigger, better monster protecting him.

And then, he shoots the imposter in the head.

It wouldn’t do for a poorly made imitation of Akira to run around freely, even in the confines of a made-up realm.

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Following Akira and his little motely crew around Shido’s palace is tedious at best, and actively infuriating at worst. After the third time one of the extras Akira calls friends fails to protect him from a potentially lethal hit, he decides he needs to act.

Not to separate Akira from those unworthy clowns (as much as he wants to, he knows Akira will never accept him if he does), but to eliminate the threats before they get to him. He can hear the loudest one remark casually about how the shadows must be running from them now, and Akechi only rolls his eyes.

How did Akira make it so far with these jokes dragging him down? He supposes it’s a demonstration of Akira’s superiority. Akechi smirks to himself. Much like how he’d used Robin Hood and his right hand as handicaps, so must Akira with his teammates. Handicaps to humble him, how odd.

He can only guess the reasons why Akira kept the group of followers around, and he imagines it’s much the same reason he had started his Detective Prince charade.

It was lonely being unloved.

Though, the thought of that loneliness is quashed by the idea that Akira and he are perfect together in that regard.

His obsession with Akira didn’t start spontaneously. He remembers a thin, awkward boy standing up to his haughty deductions at a meaningless TV interview, and he had thought _a joke, to try and face me like you’re an equal._

However, the attempt was enough to garner his attention. Enough to earn Akira another meeting, another chance to interest Akechi once more.

And he’d succeeded. He’d noticed Akechi’s purposeful handicap masterfully.

Afterward, with every outing, Akechi unravels the mystery that is Akira Kurusu more and more, and along the way he realizes that Akira is unraveling him as well. With every date disguised as an outing, and every flirtatious statement that Akira must think he’s being subtle about, he feels his obsession grow deeper and deeper.

He’d never had much thought of what he would do after getting his revenge on Shido, and yet the answer seems to have fallen right in his lap. A life with Akira, where they rely only on each other, where they make their way together in life, and taking what they want. It’s a pleasant image that he polishes every night.

He spends the few months leading to Sae’s palace taking advantage of any time he can manage with Akira.

And then, when the smaller Niijima asks him to participate in their school festival, likely to get information in the case, he finds the opportunity absolutely exhilarating in its potential. He could easily blackmail his way onto the Phantom Thieves roster, and **prove** to Akira he’s the best one for him. The plan flows perfectly, and Akira isn’t even mad at his underhanded tactics, something he was worried his righteous attitude would find issue with.

And when the order comes down from Shido to execute the leader of the Phantom Thieves, it’s surprisingly easy to say _Yes, yes, it will be done, Shido_ , and immediately cut all ties to the man in his head.

And yet, Akira had a plan for that too. He’ll have to prove to Akira that he would never think of harming the boy. That no one can be allowed to harm him. That he would decimate whoever tried.

Like how he decimated those in the interrogation room.

His thoughts are interrupted by a familiar face approaching the Thieves. Only familiar in that the same one would show up in a mirror, yet the personalities of the two couldn’t differ more. The man’s taunting is getting irritating though, and when the imposter tries to convince Akira that him in the real world would have gladly taken his life for Shido’s sake, well...

Akechi decides it’s time to show himself.

He drops down right when his imitation aims a gun at Akira.

The gasps of the rest of the Thieves go unheard as he quickly raises his own gun, his actual gun this time and not a ray gun, and mercilessly shoots the imitation out of existence. His usefulness had run its course anyway, with how close the Thieves were to completing this palace. Might as well try and turn this action into a show of good will.

Not like it matters, the show of good will, because Akechi turns back to Akira before anyone can react and pulls him to his side of the bulkhead, at the same time he aims and shoots the emergency button activating it.

Just as he expects, none of the imbeciles make a move in time, and yet Akira must’ve anticipated him because he moves with almost enough time to make it back to them. It’s a move he expects. Akira’s instincts are honed better than all the others’ combined.

If only Akechi hadn’t tightened his grip and pulled him back in, rendering the attempt pointless.

Akechi uses the momentum of pulling the struggling thief back from his vain attempt to escape and spin them around to press Akira back into the closed bulkhead. He uses his strength and weight to cease Akira’s struggling and he lowers his head to whisper in the other’s ear.

“Now now, _Joker_ , don’t you want to hear what I have to stay before you fight back?”

The sound of his voice must get through to Akira because a gasp sounds out and his muscles relax somewhat, “A-akechi? It’s you?”

Ah. Akechi holds a chuckle in and takes note of his black mask costume. Of course. Akira has never seen him in this outfit before. And how interesting that he would relax the moment he recognizes Akechi. The meaning in that action pulls a self-satisfied smile to his face. Maybe convincing Akira to let him take care of him will not be as... exhaustive as he thought. He’s already beginning with a head start it seems.

Akira will relax in the arms of the man who supposedly killed him. What a feeling the idea gives him. In the distance, he registers the sound of the remaining Phantom Thieves calling out to Akira, promising to get around the bulkhead.

He decides to let them try. “Are you surprised? I’ve forgotten you’ve never seen me this way.”

Akira only breathes in and out, tensing his muscles as if testing Akechi’s grip.

He responds by tightening his control and crowding in closer. If Akira wants a demonstration on how Akechi can affect him, he’ll gladly give it.

Akira relaxes again, lifting his head slightly and breathing close enough to Akechi’s mask that it fogs slightly on the visor. The slight obstruction of his vision convinces Akechi that he needs to be rid of the helmet immediately.

What to do when he has a skittish little thief, liable to run the second Akechi loosens his grip even slightly, and a _need_ to remove one of the only barriers between him and the object of his desires?

Akechi chooses the path of pleasure for the both of them and pushes his lower body into Akira’s, grinding them together, and shocking a gasp out of Akira. Akechi takes advantage of his momentary shock to gather both of his wrists in one hand and uses the other to rip his helmet off, throwing it as far as he can.

He quickly brings his face closer into Akira’s again, wanting to feel that desperate breath on his face.

His now free hand moves to Akira’s middle back, arching the man so their chest meet. Akira takes another deep breath, and Akechi notices him catch himself from arching even further. The heat from both of their breaths mingle, and the contact from their bodies makes Akechi very aware of how close he is to losing control. To have the boy he loves so close to him, so ready to be taken...

It’s a breathtaking visual.

“Akira,” He breathes after the heat cools for a moment, “I have to compliment you on your plan.”

Akira pants and looks up from the corner of his eyes, unaware of how alluring the position is. Akechi has to resist the urge to angle that face further and explore his mouth. He repeats his plan to himself; gentle whispers, tempting touches, and a withdrawal that leaves the subject wanting. Akira was never subtle with his flirting on the dates Akechi took him on, so his seduction only needs to convince Akira to cross the threshold on his own.

Akechi knows he craves it, but Akira’s attachment to his righteous self holds him back. He’ll nudge and nudge until Akira has to make a choice, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get the right answer.

But there’s no reason he can’t take an advance on his reward right now. He’s already given up Shido to Akira, doesn’t that mean Akira owes him something back?

“My plan?” Akira rasps, relaxing his wrists and body so that Akechi has to hold him tighter to maintain an upright Akira. He has no complaints, as it only gives him the opportunity to maneuver the boy how he wants.

“Yes. Your daring escape from my assassination. I was thoroughly impressed to see your cognitive double in that room.”

A beat of silence from Akira. Akechi smiles.

“You... knew?”

“Oh yes. I was looking forward to seeing your plan realized.” He admits, “How risky, however, to put your life in the hands of unmerciful police and an unchanged Sae.”

Akira averts his eyes as best he can, but Akechi knows the thought of the police still frighten him. It’s not something he wants Akira to linger on, so he continues.

“You don’t need to worry about the men who were in that room with you anymore. I’ve taken care of them.”

Akira tenses up again, but instead of trying to break free he looks to Akechi with a look of complete disbelief, mixed with a hopeful relief. How precious. Even through the righteous idealism, Akira can’t help but want justice for himself, want those men to feel an ounce of the pain they inflicted.

“You..” Akechi waits for Akira to formulate his thoughts, can see the furrowing of his brows and the reflexive swallowing to hold back his words, “You’re sure?” He bites out.

An adoring smile spreads wide on his face. Yes, leave it to Akira to surprise him every time. It’s one of the reasons he finds this boy more worthy than anyone else in this cruel unjust world.

“I saw to it myself. They won’t remember their own names, let alone come after you for some imagined slight.” He places a gentle kiss to the top of Akira’s head, “You’re safe.”

A shiver racks Akira’s body, and Akechi can tell the boy can’t tell if it was from fear or pleasure. Not that it matters. He’ll be accustomed to Akechi’s presence soon enough, and then all he’ll know is pleasure.

Akechi doesn’t expect Akira to take advantage of the soft moment to wretch his hands free and drag his face down to meet his in a breathtaking kiss.

With two hands now free, and in the midst of a kiss he’s only dreamed of having with Akira, Akechi decides he needs to take advantage of the situation. He yanks off his gloves, too aware of how unwieldy they are for his intentions, and rests them back on Akira’s waist.

He arches Akira once more, dropping him into a dip that causes the other man to grasp at his neck to keep his balance. Akira detaches from his lips to give a sharp gasp and a moan, and the sound only edges Akechi on further.

He brings a hand to Akira’s crotch, grinding in while the boy continues to moan in pleasure. He covers that mouth with his own, swallowing the moans, and separating only to demand Akira give him all of his passion. He demands to be the only one allowed to elicit these reactions, and he knows Akira will agree, since he never hid his attraction well on their little dates.

Even now, Akira doesn’t hide his attraction. Akechi’s name has already escaped Akira’s mouth more than once, and if he wasn’t so caught in pleasure, Akechi would bet his wandering hands would be giving as good as he got.

Those hands instead grip the back of his head, keeping his mouth firmly attached and exploring every inch he can cover. Akechi’s answering grin keeps him from kissing as deeply as he wants, but Akira’s enthusiasm to continue the kiss means he can’t be rid of the smile.

“ _Akira_ , what do you want?” He growls through the grin, moving his hands to grasp at the other man’s lower back, pulling them even closer together. He find himself thankful for the three coattails that make up the back of his Metaverse outfit, because brushing them aside to reach the back of his pants is easy.

“I want—” Akira moans out, gasps and kisses interrupting his words, “I want you to keep kissing me.”

Akechi finds himself all to willing to adhere to Akira’s request.

He occupies himself with keeping Akira’s mouth covered with his, and in the process, he drags both of his hands to cup Akira’s rear, causing him to disconnect with another moan. The euphoria of affecting Akira in such a way only emboldens Akechi, and he wastes no time in slipping a hand below the waistband of Akira’s pants.

He doesn’t plan on going any further than feeling the slight curve there, but he also wants Akira to feel his every intention to take it further at a later date.

If Akira’s darling Phantom Thieves weren’t searching for a way to free their leader at this very moment, he has no doubt this encounter would lead somewhere much happier for the both of them.

He grasps Akira’s rear and roughly pulls it toward his groin, letting the other man feel every inch of what he does to Akechi. Akira responds by breaking the kiss to pant across his throat. He doesn’t offer any resistance and instead digs his nails into Akechi’s neck. The spectacle is enough for Akechi to give his ultimatum properly.

“Give yourself to me, and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Freedom, power, and someone who will challenge you, but who’ll never turn on you,” Akechi snatches Akira’s chin, moving the boy’s head so their eyes connect. The heat emanating from Akira’s eyes almost makes Akechi want to forgo the question and just take what he wants there and then, “Won’t you let me have you?”

Such an alliance would be unbreakable, but Akira must come to him willingly, which is why Akechi will offer it as a question, a treat on a silver platter, available for Akira to parse and admire before ultimately accepting and conceding.

“You don’t have to answer now, but I look forward to it in the future,” He whispers, letting the fingers that grasped his chin shift and move so that they run through Akira’s unruly hair. The moan that sounds from the gentle pet almost convinces Akechi to stay despite his instincts, and he applauds Akira for his unintentional mastery of coercion.

But Akechi decides he has pressed his luck far enough. The rest of Akira’s hangers-on will certainly be arriving at the scene sooner rather than later, and Akechi wants to give Akira enough time to compose himself so the leeches don’t try and make him feel any second thoughts.

He gives the boy a coy kiss and then reluctantly separates himself from Akira’s lips, delighting in the way the boy chases him back, trying to reconnect them. He takes a step back.

The sudden lack of a body holding him up cause Akira to stumble slightly, and his hands actively reach out to balance himself, grabbing onto Akechi’s arms.

Akechi takes advantage of the situation to right the other boy into a standing position and gently pulls his arms away, dragging his palms along Akira’s sleeves.

He ends at the gloves, and in a sudden urge to do something princely, something he thought he had thrown away the moment revenge became the number one goal of his life, he gently lifts the red knuckles to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer,” His voice rumbles, and he looks up to see a blush continue to spread throughout the boy’s face, reaching down into his neck.

Akechi takes a step back, gathering his discarded helmet and gloves, and leaps onto the rafters, disappearing from Akira’s sight.

He spares one look back to see Akira fall to his knees and cover his heart with one hand, and bringing the other, the one he’d gently kissed, to his face.

A grin overtakes Akechi’s face, and he leans back in pleasure. He won’t leave just yet. He does have a promise to uphold about keeping Akira safe, after-all. And if he’s curious about how Akira will explain away his ruffled appearance, well...

He always loved a good show.

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He decides to give Akira a day on his own to think on the question before he shows himself for more direct persuading. His... passion is a tad overwhelming, he can admit, and the social contracts Akira’s formed with his friends might make him reluctant to give into Akechi if he pushes too far, too fast.

He has no plans to just let Akira wander on his own, however, which is how he comes to be in the red-light district of Shibuya on a Thursday night, leaning against a wall while his focus of attention speaks to the fortune-teller who swindles her patrons. Akira seems to offer her advice, and she looks reluctant to take it.

Ridiculous. If the people Akira refuses to let drown in their own problems don’t take his presence seriously, they’ll be the next to go in Akechi’s opinion. To take Akira’s valuable time and then not treasure it properly, Akechi can’t imagine.

Akira quickly wraps up with the woman and moves on, prompting Akechi to follow. The other man may think he looks inconspicuous with his hood up and shoulders slumped, but the scum of the red-light district in Shibuya are known to take priceless gems and scuff them up with their dirty paws. It’s almost a sixth sense of the underground world, and he’d be hard-pressed to say it’s a bad talent when he utilizes it himself.

It’s how he’d picked up on Akira’s pricelessness to begin with. It’s what gave Akira a chance to enrapture him.

It’s what causes the filthiest man he’s seen in a while to grab a hold of Akira’s arm and yank him into a dark secluded alley, temporally away from Akechi’s watchful gaze.

His visions narrows, and a snarl escapes his throat. How dare someone.

His feet move rapidly into the alleyway.

What he sees is not a surprise, but it gives Akechi a jolt anyway. The man has Akira crowded into a corner, between the wall and a dumpster, his hands grabbing anything along the way. Akechi can see Akira unsuccessfully fight back. Akechi is aware Akira can’t put up too large of a fight and cause a scene.

He’s supposed to be dead, and dead people cannot be caught by the police, and especially can’t be caught by witnesses who can testify to the police.

Akira’s face darts back-and-forth, clearly desperate for anything he can use, but the trash has a death grip on his arm, bunching up the sleeve there and clearly causing pain.

Akira’s eyes finally find him at the mouth of the alley, and that gaze screams for help.

Akechi wastes no time in grabbing the man by his shoulder and spinning him to face his true opponent. The filth releases Akira in shock, and the boy crumples slightly at the loss of that grip. He gives a passing glace to Akira, taking note of the terrified but relieved expression on his face, and aims a left hook right on the scumbags right eye. The man crumples instantly, falling to the ground and stumbling backward. His hand reaches up to cover his already blackening eye.

Akechi stalks his prey further into the alley. “How amusing, you think you have a _right_ to touch.” He snarls, reaching down to grasp the trembling man’s collar.

“N-no please, I didn’t know he was taken!” He cries. The sound does nothing to mollify the anger coursing through Akechi’s veins. Scum of the underworld who think the world is theirs, and the target for the night was Akira? His Akira? Absolutely despicable.

Another punch, this time to the abdomen. The sound of retching fills the alleyway, but Akechi gives him no respite. He has his knife and his gun with him, but the pleasure of feeling this man break on his knuckles is too tempting to ignore. He grabs the man by his slimy hair, thanking his foresight to wear another set of gloves so he may have both (and keep his one half of another pair safely tucked away) to avoid direct contact with filth, and drags him toward the opposite wall where Akira is. He shoves the man into the wall and spits on his face.

“Now, that’s just untrue,” He drawls, grip tightening on the man’s hair, “Even a scumbag like you knows a priceless gem when he sees one. You just thought you could take on whoever he **belonged** to.” He drags the head back and slams it into the wall, just hard enough that the man moans in abject pain, but not enough that he falls unconscious.

Where would the fun be if the man passed out before the punishment was over?

“Akechi, wait—” A hand touches his shoulder, and Akechi spares a glance at the beautiful boy, willing to hear what he has to say, “Don’t... you can’t—”

Akechi takes in the conflicted look on Akira’s face. It’s a beautiful sight to behold, a righteous man trying and failing to live up to his own lofty ideals. Akira’s hands tremble where they try and grasp Akechi’s shoulders, and his eyes dart everywhere except for at the trash in front of them. He finally settles his gaze on Akechi’s face, just off from his eyes. He knows exactly what Akira is thinking, exactly what he wants to say, but can’t bring himself to utter.

Akira _wants_ Akechi to destroy this man. But his morals cry out for mercy.

Akechi lets the filth fall from his grasp, and he spins to hold Akira to him. The more Akira sees the side of Akechi that he keeps under wraps, the more he’ll fall into his grasp. Akechi knows Akira too well, and he knows the dark side the boy tries to hide. A gasp of pain interrupts Akechi’s delightful thoughts, and his thoughts turn sour once more.

He separates himself from Akira, and one glance at the boy shows a grimace of pain as he cradles his right arm delicately. Akechi reaches for the arm, taking note of Akira’s lack of apprehension at the movement, and rolls the sleeves of his hoodie and blazer up to take note of the damage.

Dark bruising appears, already spreading rapidly up and down the limb, vague imprints of fingers splotched throughout. Akechi feels his vision white out momentarily. A few seconds was all it took for a nobody to take Akira and damage him to the point of visible markings.

If Akechi believed any less in Akira’s strength, he would lock the boy safely away, never to be gazed upon or touched by any human hands other than his own.

As it is, he’ll just have to prepare Akira. He mentally organizes a training regimen that would suit Akira well, something to compliment his lithe body, and compliment his escape talents. But these are all things Akechi can do later.

His priority now is punishment.

He turns his back to Akira once more and sees the disoriented man struggling to lift himself to get away. He almost smiles at the vain attempts. “Where do you think you’re going? Did you think your punishment was over?”

The only response is the sound of gurgles, and blood spills over the man’s lips. He can barely make out the words the man slurs, something about staying quiet and not telling the police? How considerate. It’s a nauseating sight, and he hears a gasp of apprehension from Akira behind him. He turns slightly, confident the man cannot reasonably escape from him before he gets Akira’s approval, and poses a question for his rival.

“This man has harmed you. Do you want him to live?” He keeps his face neutral. This is Akira’s decision and he wants the decision to be honest. He knows the moralistic Akira will say yes every time, but Akechi has a theory. And that theory posits that Akira only showcases these morals when he thinks those around him will betray him if he talks in opposition to _their_ morals.

If Akira is left with no one around except for the hedonistic Akechi, who will never judge him for his baser instincts, then where will Akira fall?

A long pause blankets the alley, punctuated only by gasping moans of pain. Akechi takes the pause as a victory. No matter Akira’s answer, he will abide by it, but the simple fact that he hesitates brings him that much closer to having the thief all to himself.

“Yes.” But the word is forced through clenched teeth and clenched eyes.

Akechi brings a hand up to cradle Akira’s cheek. “Okay. He lives.” He sees the tension seep from Akira’s shoulders. So much so that he almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. “But I can’t let him keep the hand that hurt you.”

Akira’s eyes fly open and his voice gets stuck on a _wait—!_

Akechi tilts his head back while pulling his gun from the holster around his chest. He doesn’t take more than a second to aim, and shoots a hole through the man’s left wrist, severing the artery and destroying the bone. The gunshot combined with the man’s agonized screaming means he only has seconds to drag Akira out of the alley and to somewhere safe.

He gently grasps a stunned Akira and leads him further down the alley, toward a hole in the concrete barricade he’d noticed earlier. The two slip through, and Akechi is surprised at how easily Akira maneuvers with him.

They get far enough away where Akechi feels comfortable, and he gently places an exhausted Akira against the wall. He refuses to let his wrist go, though, desperate to offer the boy that little extra grounding. He wants more than anything to erase the filth’s existence from Akira’s mind, but in the absence of that he wants to be Akira’s pillar of support. He will never regret getting revenge for Akira, and now he knows Akira won’t outright despise him for it, judging by his reaction to Akechi admitting to the aftermath of the officers in the interrogation room.

Akira, for his credit, doesn’t heave like many witnesses to such crimes do. He doesn’t lose focus in his eyes when they crawl up Akechi’s body to land on his own eyes.

In fact, Akira looks to be a man with a purpose.

He lifts Akechi’s hand where it’s clasped to his wrist, and Akechi allows the boy to maneuver it so the knuckles are facing up.

Akechi expects a lot of things, and can predict most of the others, but even he feels his heart stutter in shock and throbbing heartache when Akira places a gentle kiss on his bloody gloved knuckles. The gesture is a direct reversal of what Akechi had done to him in Shido’s palace, and the sight leaves him speechless.

Luckily, that seems to be exactly the situation Akira wants, because he fills the silence, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there.”

Akechi grinds his teeth together, “I hope you would forgo your plan to stay dead and beat that man down, regardless of the police or myself finding out you were alive.”

A bitter chuckle escapes Akira, and the unspoken denial of Akechi’s words make him mad all over again. What was the point of giving away his life’s work if his newer life’s work would give himself away so easily? He clenches his hand around Akira’s, dragging the arm back and taking the body with it.

He wraps his other arm around Akira, giving no room for escape, and clutches tightly.

Akechi moves his mouth downward to place gentle kisses on Akira’s throat, relishing the shivers that accompany each mark and kiss he leaves, “I promise I will protect you and love you more than anyone ever could,” He breathes, hands touching anything in reach.

“I know you will,” Akira admits, breathing out a sigh of contentment. The promise is sealed with a kiss in a dirty alley, the sound of police sirens in the distance fading away. Akechi’s question hasn’t been answered, but the gentle press of lips in the aftermath of a promise fulfilled is enough, for now.

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**Author's Note:**

> me, trying to wrestle these assholes into being horny /VS/ them, too soft to do anything but over the clothes petting and kissing
> 
> well at least there’s some violence


End file.
